


you can lay with me so it doesn't hurt (stay with me)

by cornerkick



Series: your head's only medicine [1]
Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: Cuddling, F/F, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, random thorns are sprinkled throughout here too., tw: concussion, tw: injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-07 21:22:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20824013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cornerkick/pseuds/cornerkick
Summary: Lindsey doesn’t know how to do anything half-assed. And she always pops up again, despite the knocks she takes.Except this one time.





	you can lay with me so it doesn't hurt (stay with me)

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes you write 4,000 words to cope. I took creative license in the events immediately after the match, the playoff picture AND the uswnt's injury picture just because I Can. Un-beta'd, so all mistakes are mine.
> 
> Until That happened towards the end of the match, I was going to write something very different in response but...well, you get this instead. Sorry!
> 
> Alternate title: The One Where Emily's Hovering Got Me Right in the Feelings and PTFC Lets Lindsey Horan Rest.

She sees it happening before it does.

Lindsey’s been going hard all game, trying to make up for the loss of Tobin, and had ended up in a heap on more than one occasion because of it. That’s just the way Lindsey _ plays _, though. She’s always going at 100, doesn’t know how to let up. It’s what makes watching her play during Victory Tour games so hilarious. She doesn’t know how to do anything half-assed. And she always pops up again, despite the knocks she takes. 

There’s a split second where Emily opens her mouth to try and warn her, somehow, but before the words can form, Lindsey’s barrelling in to play the ball, and Emily can tell right away that it’s not going to be good. Lindsey takes contact up high and rolls, her body curling in on itself before she shifts onto her stomach. She’s not moving, and that’s the first thing that strikes Emily. She stops in her tracks for half a second and then looks back to the box; the game’s still going on, and Emily’s torn between getting back into the play and staying right here, at most three feet from Lindsey’s prone form. 

When the ball’s kicked back towards their own end, she glances briefly to Lindsey and her feet feel like lead as she takes one step, two, at most three strides away from her. 

Then the ball’s out of play and the whistle’s blowing and Emily’s jogging right back to Lindsey’s side. The medical staff is there quickly, too. They try to sit her up for a second or two, but lay her down on her back almost immediately. For once, she doesn’t know what to say, can’t find words, and when she bends down to try and check on Lindsey, she sees the tears cutting through dirt on her cheeks and sees the effort she’s breathing with and has to glance away again

She’s freezing. She’s been cold the _ entire _ match, but this time, it starts in her chest and blooms out, like her heart’s pumping ice-water instead of blood now, and it makes Emily pull her sleeves further over her hands. She’s not going to move, though. She can’t remember ever seeing Lindsey hurt like this. She expects to be pissed, but mostly she’s just...worried, upset, scared? A combination of all of that, probably. 

When she sees the crew getting the stretcher ready, Emily curses out loud, which earns her a look from Sinc. She straightens up, then, walking towards Lindsey’s feet so that she can try and catch her attention, if only for a second. Ellie’s at her side, says something soft that Emily can’t really decipher right now, gives Emily’s shoulder a squeeze before she wedges herself between a couple of Reign players to find a spot before they cart Lindsey off of the field. 

She looks...so much younger than twenty-five, just then, one sock drooping, dirt on her knees, and tears still leaking out. Emily doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t really _ do _ anything, either, just manages to grab Lindsey’s foot and give it a squeeze as the crew walks past. 

-

It takes all of the willpower Emily has stored up not to just jog right off of the field. There’s still technically time left, but her head’s not in it, now. Those are all off on the sideline with Lindsey and she doesn’t get a touch in during the waning moments of the match. When it’s over, she doesn’t linger, just runs off of the pitch and towards the locker room. She pauses for a second at the sideline, double checking that they’re not still there, but they must have managed to get Lindsey in the back by now. 

She’s not in the locker room when Emily gets there, but _ Tobin _ is, lounging in a cubby that was meant to be hers. She’s on her feet instantly and opens her arms before Emily’s even really sure what’s happening. On autopilot, she closes the distance between them and lets Tobin wrap her up in a hug. 

“Hey,” Tobin says.

“Hey.” Emily’s echo sounds like it’s coming from someone else’s mouth, the syllable wobbly like she’s the one who just got bowled over and her head knocked into. 

“They’ve got her, Son. She’ll be okay.” 

“It’s not fair.” Not fair that Lindsey was trying so damn hard to get them at least _ one _ goal to save face, no fair that she was even _ out there _ in stoppage time, not fair that it was Lindsey who deserves way more than a concussion and bruised shins. Emily doesn’t really realize that she’s crying until she feels the warm tears on Tobin’s coat. 

“Never is.” Tobin gives her a squeeze before letting go and curling back up in her cubby again. Emily hovers uncertainly for a minute, wringing her too-long sleeves in her fingers before resorting to her usual routine. She showers quickly, just enough to rinse off the loss, and changes back into street clothes, avoids her teammates in the locker room (though everyone seems to give her a very wide berth), and dips into the hallway. She hesitates for the length of time it takes her to glance at her phone before heading back towards the pitch instead of away from it. 

Unsurprisingly, she finds Lindsey out there with one of the trainers, looking small in a too-big, puffy Thorns coat and walking slowly in circles. She’s still got a hand on her head as they turn. Emily takes a deep, steadying breath before making her way over. 

“Hey,” she says on an exhale, coming to a stop in front of Lindsey and trying to offer her a smile. Lindsey pulls her jacket more tightly around her shoulders. 

“Hey.” It’s weird. She sounds...sad. It makes Emily’s heart ache a little bit as she shoves her hands into her pockets and turns to fall into step with them. The trainer tells them to take it easy, that the bus leaves in fifteen, and Lindsey just nods at him until he walks away. 

They walk in silence for a while, though Emily does pull her cap off of her own head and hand it over to Lindsey instead. It’s not sunny, really, but Emily knows that any bit of excess can be bothersome with a concussion. Lindsey plops it on her head after a bit of adjusting and takes Emily’s hand without asking. Emily laces their fingers without really thinking about it, traces the back of Lindsey’s hand with her thumb.

“Was it a tampon, do you think?”

Lindsey doesn’t even have to ask what the hell Emily’s talking about, even if it takes her a couple seconds longer to answer than it usually would. “I don’t think so. No string.” A comfortable silence falls over them as they circle the field. Eventually, Lindsey tugs on Emily’s hand and sinks into the grass, free hand propped upon her forehead. 

Emily doesn’t bother to ask if she’s alright. She already knows the answer. She just sits down beside her, then sprawls out on her back, throws her arm over her eyes and settles in. She can feel Lindsey doing the same beside her by the slack in her arm, though Lindsey still hasn’t let go of her hand just yet. 

“Em?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Emily turns her head to look at her, eyes drifting open. Lindsey’s are closed, so she can’t see the confusion blossoming on Emily’s face when she asks “For what?”

“Being there. Staying with me.” 

Emily thinks back to the collision and how she’d had to force herself to keep playing instead of hovering right on top of Lindsey. “Course. You’d do it for me.”

Lindsey doesn’t have to respond in kind; they both know it’s true.

\- 

“Sonny! Let’s go!”

It’s Ellie who’s yelling from the tunnel, and Emily’s not really sure how long they’ve been out there. She just knows she definitely fell asleep listening to Lindsey breathing, which is, you know, a completely normal thing to happen. Lindsey’s cursing quietly under her breath as she sits up and she pauses there, even as Emily jumps to her feet. Their hands lose each other in the process, and Emily waves her hand to let the others know they’re on their way. 

Leaning over with her hands on her knees, Emily raises her eyebrows at Lindsey. “Ready?” Lindsey takes a deep, steadying breath and shrugs her shoulders. 

“Nope,” she replies evenly, huffing out a sigh. Emily sticks her hand out again and Lindsey takes it, using the leverage to haul herself to her feet with some effort. 

She keeps Emily’s hand as they walk to the bus. It’s quiet when they board, and Emily leads the way down the aisle and to their usual spot in the back, throws herself into the window seat while Lindsey tucks herself in beside her. Most of their teammates already have headphones on and are two songs into their loss playlist. Emily doesn’t bother offering Lindsey one of hers now, just settles into her seat and keeps Lindsey’s hand between both of hers. 

Ten minutes into the bus ride, Lindsey’s leaning her head on Emily’s shoulder. “Hey,” Emily says, jostling her a little bit by shrugging. “You heard Bailey. Three hours, then you can sleep.”

“‘m awake,” Lindsey complains, burrowing further into Emily’s shoulder. “Stop moving.”

“I’m going to poke you every ten minutes. You’re not allowed to sleep yet.”

“Stop talking.”

“Make me.”

“Okay.” Lindsey doesn’t, in fact, _ make her _do anything, but even if she sounds exhausted and sad, it reassures her that Lindsey’s still in there. For the first time in forever, they’re quiet on the ride back. 

-

Emily drags her to the diner as soon as they get back. She can’t drive. Her vision’s all blurry and her head feels stuffy. If she doesn’t think about it too much, it might be a cold, but the dull ache in her neck tells her otherwise. She curls up in the passenger seat and lets Emily drive her car, which she usually hates, but she doesn’t really have much of a choice, now. Emily kills the radio as soon as she starts the car, and Lindsey reaches over to turn it back on, the volume low, just to kill the silence. 

By the time they grab takeout and make it back to the apartment, the three hours have passed. Lindsey’s not nauseous or anything, but she’s not hungry, either. Usually, they sit on the couch with bad reality TV on Sunday afternoons, but Lindsey’s not sure how she’ll do with the screen. She’s sitting on the couch with her food still wrapped in front of her while Emily sits on the floor munching away. She stops about halfway through her sandwich and points at her. “You have to eat something.”

Spitefully, Lindsey steals a few of Emily’s french fries and pops them into her mouth. Then she promptly gets up, pauses to count to five (Emily can see her mouthing the numbers), and heads down the hallway to the bedroom. 

“...aren’t you coming?” 

She is.

-

Lindsey’s a heavy sleeper. It was one of the first things Emily learned about her when they started sleeping together. Like, actually sleeping together, in the same bed. She’ll sleep like a rock, and sometimes, she’ll fall asleep _ on top of Emily _, and while she once worried about suffocation risks, now, it’s kind of comforting when that happens. The gentle rise and fall of Lindsey’s chest always lulls Emily to sleep, and whenever they’re apart, she sleeps like shit because she doesn’t have that metronome to soothe her internal clock. 

So when Lindsey starts tossing and turning, Emily _ notices _. It’s with a grumble and a sense of loss of warmth when Lindsey gets out of bed. She waits a few minutes until she hears the shower running to get up herself, and when she glances over at the clock, it’s only nine p.m. They’d fallen asleep in the early afternoon, but that wasn’t much rest, even for them. 

It’s still pitch black in the apartment. Lindsey’s actually taking a shower in the dark, and Emily runs into the wall at least twice trying to get to the bathroom door. She opens it, closes the lid on the toilet, and plops down on top of the lid. She doesn’t say anything, and Lindsey doesn’t freak out when she steps out of the shower and squints at Emily handing off a towel, just accepts it, changes into a worn UVA hoodie, and sits promptly on the floor. Emily combs her fingers lights through Lindsey’s hair and does it up in a loose braid, but has to take it out when it starts hurting Lindsey’s head. She apologizes no less than eight times, and Lindsey reminds Emily that it’s not _ her _fault.

She eats some cold french fries and tries to fall asleep again, using Emily as a pillow.

It works for about two hours.

Lather, rinse, repeat. 

Emily dutifully gets out of bed each time.

-

That first week goes like this: Lindsey wakes up by eight every morning. Some days, she feels fine. Other days, she wakes up earlier than she means to because her head is throbbing. No matter which type of day it is, by the time lunchtime rolls around, she’s got _ some _ kind of symptoms. It’s either blurring at the edge of her vision or nausea or a headache, but every time, it sets her back to square one and she’s stuck on the couch, unable to even play Pokemon Go because the light hurts her eyes, bored and tired and getting sadder by the second. 

Usually, after training, Emily’s there, too, usually with a random book off of the shelf in the spare bedroom that she starts reading out loud, just to fill the silence, but without anything Lindsey actually needs to pay attention to. She doesn’t know why Emily picked _ The Hunger Games _, but the way she’s got different voices for all of the characters is funny, and her Effie, in particular, makes Lindsey’s side hurt from laughing. 

They’re halfway through _ Mockingjay _ when Lindsey realizes her head doesn’t hurt, hasn’t all day, and that none of the other symptoms are there, either. 

She doesn’t say anything. 

The second week is...better. She doesn’t wake up with the headache. She even makes Emily take her with her to training on Wednesday, despite the protests. She controls the music and stands on the sidelines wearing sunglasses and lets the trainers check her eyes and complies with all of the weird tasks they ask her to do, like making faces and tightrope walking and touching her finger to her nose. She kind of feels like she’s trying to convince her parents she hasn’t been drinking, and when Bailey asks her about her symptoms, she digs the toe of her sneaker into the ground.

“Be honest. That’s the only way this doesn’t get worse.”

“My head hurts today,” she says with a shrug. “But not as bad as last week,” she’s quick to add, worried they’ll send her home in an Uber and she won’t get to watch her teammates try and navigate an offense without her. 

“Okay. Well, I think maybe we should try something…” 

“If you’re going to tell me to drink the protein shake again, I threw it up last time, so…”

“I was thinking more like a workout.” Lindsey’s eyes light up, though she looks at Bailey dubiously. 

-

She’s allowed to jog on a treadmill. It seems like something so small, but getting her blood pumping again makes her feel _ human _ again in a way that nothing, except maybe cuddling with Emily after a long day, does lately.

She barely gets it up past three miles-per-hour before the trainer makes her back it off, but it feels _ good. _ It feels _ normal _. 

And Lindsey loves it.

\- 

Until that night, when her calves are cramping and her head hurts worse than it has in days. Emily gets her a glass of water and some Advil and plops down beside her, lets Lindsey rest her head in her lap and runs her fingers through Lindsey’s hair while she reads.

Lindsey falls asleep like that and only wakes up when Emily gets up to pee sometime around midnight.

-

They have Victory Tour games in North Carolina and Chicago, but Lindsey’s not going. She considered it, but, ultimately, the noise and the crowds probably wouldn’t be good for her recovery. It still sucks when Emily’s standing in the living room with her gear bag and suitcase, wearing a Thorns jacket that, now that Lindsey looks at it, is too big and has #10 on it. 

“This sucks. These aren’t as fun without you to send balls in to.” 

She’s not even trying to make Lindsey feel better; Emily actually feels that way and, in a weird way, it makes _ Lindsey _ feel better. She shrugs, pulls Emily to her by her jacket pockets, and tugs her into a hug. Lindsey’s so big she can wrap Emily up like this, and Emily kind of melts into it until her phone buzzes to remind her that she needs to get her ass to the airport, like, now to make her flight. 

She briefly thinks about staying here. 

Then Lindsey’s letting go of her and giving her a look that looks very serious and Emily wipes her face subconsciously. “What?”

“You’re gonna kill it.”

“Is that a statement or an order?”

“Both?”

Something stirs in Emily and she clears her throat. “Okay." 

-

Lindsey’s on the treadmill when the first game is set to kick off. She’s getting to the point, now, where she can watch TV in short bursts without getting a headache, and since Emily’s starting, she figures she’ll catch the beginning. 

She almost falls off of the treadmill when the camera catches Emily schmoozing for the camera -and then catches her miming their handshake to no one. 

(She actually _ does _ have to hop onto the sides of the treadmill when Emily’s ball in to Tobin results in a beautiful finish from Christen).

-

**L: ** You still didn’t score for me, though.  
**E: **next time ;)

-

Lindsey wakes up with a throbbing headache on the day of the second match, but she forces herself out of bed and into her workout clothes because Bailey said that working through the symptoms works for some people. She’s miserable when she gets to the gym, but as soon as she gets on the treadmill, Ellie and Hayley are there, one on either side. 

“What?” She says, trying to ignore the way she can barely keep up a run and talk at the same time. Bailey had let her increase the speed yesterday, and she’s still adjusting.

“You wanna kick around?” 

Lindsey blinks at them, looking from one teammate to the other before glancing across to where the trainers are huddled around one of the new machines. “I mean, yeah, obviously. But I don’t know that i’m _ allowed.” _ If it sounds bitter, it’s because she_ is._

“We wouldn’t have asked you if we hadn’t gotten the okay first,” Hayley says with a dramatic eye roll. “Come on. You’re, like, depressing to look at.”

They go out on the empty pitch and pass the ball back and forth for twenty minutes, with the rule that Lindsey is absolutely not allowed to use anything other than her feet to volley the ball. It feels so normal and effortless, her body remembering how to do this even if her head aches, and five minutes in, Ellie is telling this story about a guy in Target buying all of her groceries that has Lindsey’s ribs hurting from laughing. 

By the end of the session, her head doesn’t hurt anymore.

-

They come over to watch the game with her and things are almost normal. Lindsey misses having Emily’s lap to rest her head on, but she wears one of Emily’s sweatshirts and Hayley only ribs her once about it while they split a pizza and watch the game. Emily does the handshake to no one again and Ellie comments about that, too, but the teasing is good-natured and Lindsey tries (and fails) to ignore her blush. 

She only makes it to the 32nd minute before the lights start hurting her eyes. Ellie gets off of the couch to turn them off, but even the TV is making her feel sick, so Lindsey retreats to the bedroom and wraps herself up in a blanket that still smells like Emily and tries not to be annoyed when her friends cheer from the other room and make her head feel like it’s splitting open all over again. 

-

**E: **that one was for you!!!

**E: **i said so in the interview too

**E: **linds?

-

(The Aussies recorded the game for her, so Lindsey’s able to go back and see it later. Emily scores off of a beautiful corner from Christen and leaps nearly eight feet into the air when she does it. Lindsey tries to ignore the stab in her chest when she sees Kelley get to Emily first.)

\- 

When Emily makes it home, it’s the middle of the night and Lindsey’s already in bed. It’s dark and, since Lindsey hadn’t replied, she assumes it was a bad day...or a bad couple of days. Emily leaves her stuff near the door and stubs her toe on the corner of the kitchen island on her way to bed. “Fuck,” she hisses, and the bedroom light clicks on. Emily swears again as she shuffles down the hallway and pokes her head into their shared room. “Hey, gorgeous. Give me a minute.” She’s intending to go pee but Lindsey somehow gets her fingers into the hem of her jacket and _ tugs _, effectively pulling her onto the bed -and right on top of Lindsey. 

“Or not,” Emily chuckles, rearranging her limbs so that she can spoon Lindsey properly, chin propped on her shoulder. “Miss me?”

“Of course I did.” Emily was expecting a joke, the easy banter that has become their norm, but Lindsey sounds totally genuine, which isn’t what she was expecting at 1:22 a.m. Shifting a bit to sling an arm around Lindsey’s waist and get a leg between Lindsey’s, Emily presses a kiss to the back of Lindsey’s neck and shrugs. 

“Missed you, too. I probably could’ve scored another one if you’d been there.”

“It was a pretty goal. Wish I could’ve been there.” 

“Me, too. Kelley’s elbows are too sharp.” As if to prove a point, Lindsey elbows her in the ribs. Emily complains and bites a little bit at Lindsey’s shoulder. Lindsey keeps pushing back into her and it’s _ distracting _ until Emily takes Lindsey’s hand and they both settle. 

“It sucks, playing without you, you know. Nobody knows where I’m trying to put it better than you do.”

“Nobody delivers a ball like you, either. The one you hit Christen with was _ perfect _.”

“I know. She said thanks. It was awesome.”

“Told you you were gonna kill it.” 

“No one can be wrong all the time.”

Lindsey swats at her, leans back into Emily’s warmth, and promptly falls asleep.

-

A week without a headache. 

They celebrate with pancakes, and Lindsey goes to training with Emily, though she heads for the gym while Emily heads for the pitch. She’s allowed to lift a little bit now, too, which makes her feel almost like a normal person again, and once she’s done with that and runs two miles, she goes to sit in the first row while the team does drills. Near the end of practice, Lindsey climbs down onto the pitch and steals a spare ball, dribbles it around the water bottles lined up there, and, when AD yells at her from her spot, she sails it perfectly into the net, too. 

From the other side of the pitch, Emily gives her a thumbs up.

And from the opposite sideline, Mark calls her name. 

He wants to speak to her once the team’s done, here. Great.

-

Emily sits on the trunk of Lindsey’s car with two iced coffees in hand. When Lindsey returns half an hour later, she hands one off to her. “What was that about?”

Predictably, Lindsey takes a long sip of her coffee before responding. “They think I’m okay for practice tomorrow,” she says matter-of-factly, getting into the passenger seat and plugging her phone in. Emily scrambles to get into the driver’s seat and turns the music down as soon as she turns the car on. 

“Tomorrow?” She practically yells, her eyes bright with excitement and...something else Lindsey can’t really name. 

“Yeah,” she says, shrugging and taking another drink. “Non-contact, but at least I’ll be out there again.”

“Thank fuck, Linds, I’m dying out there.” Emily flings her arms around Lindsey’s shoulders and Lindsey can’t help but laugh. She kind of thinks she’s been dying a little bit without it, too. 

-

It takes four more days before she’s allowed to take the highlighter green pinny off and actually practice like a regular soccer player, and even longer for her to see game action. They don’t start her for the game against Chicago, and it annoys Lindsey even though she knows they’re probably right. She’s just _ anxious _ about everything. She hasn’t scored a goal for Portland in months, and it wasn’t even in a game that they really _ needed _ her to score. 

That’s what she’d been trying to do when she’d made the tackle that led to the injury: get the ball back and _ score _. She’s ready.

Still, she stands at the sideline and does her handshake with Emily when Emily catches her eye from her spot, and the smile she gets in return almost makes this worth it. 

Almost.

They go down 1-0 in the 24th minute on a Kerr goal, and by halftime they’ve doubled that scoreline. Tobin is getting harassed every time she touches the ball and while the backline is holding strong, they can get nothing going offensively. Mark keeps looking back at her and Lindsey’s trying to look calm about it. _ Emily _ keeps looking over, too, and during a brief injury timeout, Lindsey waves her over. 

Lindsey stays on her side of the touch line and Emily stays on hers, though as she passes her a bottle of water, she says “Up the right side. Have Ellie cut it back.” 

Their next possession goes just like that. Emily flies a long ball in to Ellie, who cuts around one defender and into the box. Before the oncoming slide tackle, she sends the ball across and Tobin, being Tobin, buries it. 

Lindsey’s yelling her head off and Emily almost comes off the field as she sprints by the give her a high-five before joining the celebration. 

Minute sixty comes and goes. Hayley gets the equalizer off the post. Lindsey is still pacing the sideline. They’re deadlocked in the seventieth when Mark finally calls her number, and Lindsey calls for the ball from the second her cleats touch the grass. 

Emily obliges her, of course, and she drops the pass right back to her, just needing the touch and feeling the adrenaline surging through her body. Time seems to go too quickly and too slowly all at once. She sees Kerr picking the ball off up the middle, sees the shot rocketing toward their net, sees AD react a half a step too late...and then Sonny’s sliding in front of the ball and flinging it out of play like she always does, bouncing back to her feet and throwing the crowd a thumbs up when they boo about it. 

Lindsey settles, then. If they were going to lose, it would have been on _ that _ goal. 

They don’t get their goal until the 88th minute, and it comes off of a Tobin corner. Lindsey knows what’s coming before they even line up, and it doesn’t take Emily squeezing her around the waist as she passes to tell her so. 

It’s a perfect ball from Tobin, and Lindsey doesn’t hesitate to leap for it. 

She knows it’s a goal before it even leaves her head. She turns her back on it. She’s that confident. The crowd roars, her teammates swarm her, and it’s Emily who tackles her to the ground first. Lindsey’s laughing breathlessly as the rest of the team reaches them, and she can’t hear what Sonny’s yelling over the booing, but the pure, unbridled joy that makes Emily’s voice raw is clear. 

That’s all they need.

-

“That one was for you.”

“Thanks, Superstar,” Emily says, cuddling into her side and nuzzling into the crook of Lindsey’s neck. “Maybe a little sooner next time?”

Lindsey pinches her, but she sort of agrees.

-

Her head doesn’t hurt anymore.


End file.
